


but as it is (and it is)

by steevee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pen Pals, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:37:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steevee/pseuds/steevee
Summary: Caleb's ultimate solution only has one flaw- but he's got a plan for that, too.
Relationships: Nott & Caleb Widogast, Nott/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	1. Dear Veth

**Author's Note:**

> it would be a hundred times easier  
if we were young again  
but as it is  
(and it is)  
to think that we could stay the same  
but we're two slow dancers, last ones out

_"If you value everything that we hold dear," the man shouted above the whipping astral winds that surrounded them, "do not go to the Soltryce Academy. Do you understand this? Whatever you do, you must not go."_

_"I understand, but-- why?"_

_The mage grasped Bren by the shoulders and stared intensely into his face. _

_"Because-- you will do great things, someday. You will. But not there. Not if you go there." _

_The maelstrom around them tore at his skin and clothes like hail, roaring at a deafening pitch. The mage looked back over his shoulder worriedly: the ends of his coat were beginning to dissolve into stardust. Quickly, the particles spread up his limbs._

_"I'm running out of time here." He confirmed what Bren already suspected, knew. "The last thing you must do, if you can-- find Veth, and speak to her." _

_"Who?" He asked. The sparks spread now to the wizard's torso, dispersing nearly all of his body into grains of light. He grimaced._

_"Veth, in Felderwin!" _

_The hand on his shoulder, what was last of the mage, dithered until it was just a few pintpoints of energy. One by one they winked out into darkness, like embers against the night sky._

_When they disappeared, he was alone in the dark. _

Bren Aldric Ermendrud wakes that morning with a strange thought in his mind. He crosses his bedroom, finds the very expensive journal his parents gifted him the birthday prior, and painstakingly removes a single precious page. He dips his pen, then begins to write.

> _Dear Veth,_
> 
> _I am writing to you because of a dream. Do you think that is strange? Maybe you don't, if you are a very powerful wizard. I've never heard of any mages from Felderwin. But then again, nobody talks about any mages from Blumenthal either. Not yet._
> 
> _When I grow up, that is going to change. I am already the best at magic in the whole town, <strike>and soon</strike> and I study every day. By the time I am sixteen, I want to be a real wizard. That's in four years. Then, I can be an apprentice to an experienced teacher and learn even more. _
> 
> _Do you need an apprentice? I know how to produce light and flame, and I am practicing using magic to attack enemies. My father used to be in the army. One day I will too, but I'm going to be much stronger on account of my spells. _
> 
> _Everyone says that last year an evil monster attacked Tal'dorei with an army of the undead. If something like that ever happens here, I want to be strong enough to fight. _
> 
> _Also, I have a cat. Her name is Frumpkin. She eats rats in the granary, but someday she's going to be my familiar. That is why I need to bring her if I am supposed to become your apprentice. _
> 
> _Please write back soon, or else I'll know you aren't real._
> 
> _Sincerely,_  
_Bren Aldric Ermendrud_

He seals the letter, tucks it safely away in his pocket, and makes a mental note to have it sent as soon as he can get into town. He will not forget it.

Days pass, then weeks. Months. He inquires to his father how far away Felderwin is-- the answer makes his stomach sink. Another piece of paper tears from the binding.

> _Dear Veth,_  
  
_I never described my dream to you, did I? I realize that was probably a mistake, especially if you are to believe me. Maybe this letter will help in that regard, I hope._  
  
_In my dream I was in an empty space. I saw my own form, distorted, from many angles into infinity. They were all at odds with each other, like shards of of broken glass._  
  
_From one of them my reflection suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of me. I will call him my reflection, but he was hardly like me, except that I could not shake the certainty we were one and the same. He was old- old as my father, perhaps._  
  
_He warned me to stay away from the Soltryce Academy in Rexxentrum. I am still unsure how that is even a risk-- the Academy is prestigious, and more expensive than my family could ever hope to afford. He did not explain why, only that it was important. Then he gave me your name and location, and disappeared._  
  
_Do you believe me now? Maybe you believe me even less. Maybe you have already dismissed both this letter and the last._  
  
_However you feel about it, I ask that you tell me so that my curiosity can be put to rest._  
  
_Regards,_  
_Bren Aldric Ermendrud_

A year. Another piece of paper. 

> _Dear Veth,_  
  
_This will be my final letter. I doubt you are receiving them anyway, if you are a real person after all._  
  
_A mage from the academy visited town today. He took two of my classmates back to Rexxentrum with him. According to their parents, they were accepted to the Soltryce Academy due to their "promising magical ability."_  
  
_I only learned of this after the fact. When I first heard that someone from the Academy was coming, I was terrified. I recalled my dream and ran for the woods._  
  
_I know now how foolish and stupid that was. I have lost my only chance at achieving anything of worth. My parents have said nothing on the matter, but I know they are disappointed in me and my cowardice._  
  
_Everything, thrown away because of a childish nightmare. Writing to you has been a waste of equal measure._  
  
_Bren Aldric Ermendrud_

Two more years pass until he has cause to write. 

> _Dear Veth,_
> 
> _Something terrible has happened. You are the only one I can tell openly of these events, dubious existence or not. _  
  
_First, I feel I must apologize for my previous letter and the span of time between it and the one I write to you now. It is more than likely such an apology is inconsequential, but on the off chance that my words are read I will give it anyway._  
  
_I have had no reason to write you these past two years. Truthfully, I have spent most of them doubting myself in many forms. Recent events are the only confirmation I have had pertaining to my dream many years ago, and I even have doubts about that._  
  
_Two families in my town have been found dead. Both were the parents of my classmates, those two who went to study at the Soltryce Academy. Their families died the same night as each other. I struggle to believe that it is a coincidence._  
  
_I saw them, the day prior. Only for a brief moment in town. One of them, whom I had known decently before she enrolled at the Academy, connected eyes with me, and they held none of the warmth that I remembered. Of course I know that people change, often for the worse, but the look in her eyes was something else entirely. If I hadn't been so familiar with her face, I am not certain I could have recognized her from a crowd. _  
  
_I do not know what goes on at the Academy, but I cannot help feeling that the message I received in my youth was not without purpose in steering me away from such a place. _  
  
_Against my better judgement, I will be going to Rexxentrum. I do not know what it means for my safety, but I will put this curiosity to rest._  
  
_Sincerely,_  
_B.  
_

And another, spent someplace new. He has no one, there. In that way it ends up not so different from his home. Except now, he buys his own ink.

> _V._  
  
_Direct evidence about the Academy's activities is hard to come by here. Whispers, however, are not so hard to come by. Over the past year I have secured myself a position where it is easy to overhear such whispers. Many fear the wrath of the Assembly, and the Scourgers that act on their behalf._  
  
_Many more support these efforts completely. People disappear often and are seldom spoken about after. By even writing to you of these things, I run the risk of becoming one such example myself. Hopefully these letters will be worth their reward, or go unnoticed by the world._  
  
_Of all those employed at the Academy, the most dubious is a mage by the name of Ikithon. Those near him and even employed by him seem wary of his practices._  
  
_I have found neither of my former friends despite my best efforts to locate them in the city. Either they have gone entirely, or I do not yet have the skills I need to track them down._  
  
_Soon, this will change. I may not have the benefit of institutional learning, but I have not spent my years idly. I do not intend to start now._  
  
_Yours in confidence,_  
_B._

A handful of months fly by. The amount of blank pages in his book dwindle, but the ones that remain serve to remind him how little he still knows.

> _V._  
  
_It is no longer safe for me in the city. Perhaps it never was, but I was protected by my ignorance. That is no longer the case._  
  
_If I do not write you again, assume that I am dead. Disclose the information I have given you to no one, unless you are willing to risk your own safety in the process._  
  
_I do not know what I would prefer to be true of you and the fate of these letters. The safest outcome may well be that they were all forgotten, long rotted in some carrier's bag._  
  
_I have considered, as well, that it is just as likely that you are the reason for my hasty departure from Rexxentrum. I have been far too trusting in tossing sensitive information to the wind, and this is what I receive in return. A lesson, one supposes._  
  
_I will be more careful what I divulge from now on, in the event that I survive what is to come._  
  
_B._


	2. Dear Bren

Veth is sixteen when she catches her brothers snickering behind the house, huddled between it and the chicken coop. She passes them by, a basket tucked under her arm, and their whispering grows louder, vicious. She steels herself and whips her head around.  
  
"What?" She snaps. They only cackle louder, grinning first at her and then down to a pile of parchment between them.  
  
_"Dear Veth,"_ Tannon singsongs with one piece of paper held above his head. _"I like you sooooo much. I dream about kissing you all the time."_ He punctuates the sentence with a barrage of awful puckered-lip noises.  
  
"Too bad you're butt ugly," Ogden adds smartly. Tannon looks back down at the letter and smooths back his hair, putting on an even more pompous face.  
  
_"L_o_oo_o_ve, Bren Aldric Ermendrud."_ He croons. It is a mouthful of a name that she has never heard before, but her cheeks burn nonetheless.  
  
She stomps toward them to snatch the letter from him, but Ogden places his body between hers and Tannon's. Growling and trying to reach over his shoulder does nothing but put them in a stalemate, shoving against each other while their other brother laughs and waves the piece of paper in the air.  
  
"Tan-- give me it!" Veth grunts, caught between reaching for the letter and fending off her brother's attempts to twist her arm around. "What are you two-- even doing!"  
  
"We're just readin'," Ogden quips. "Hey, Tan. Wanna tell the neighbors what we found out?"  
  
Tannon grins at him, then opens his mouth to holler.  
  
_"Veth has a secret admirer!"_  
  
She goes red to the pointed tips of her ears, anger and shame hot in her blood. Her hand grazes the edge of the paper-- rips it out of his grasp--and she staggers back, victorious.  
  
The twins look at each other, far less defeated than she would prefer. They shrug. Tannon smirks and kicks the pile of papers on the ground, scattering them over the yard.  
  
"Have fun, Vethy," he says while the two of them make toward the house. For a moment, he pauses and locks eyes with her. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up if I were you. If you ask me, I think your boyfriend's dead."

  
  
When they're gone she gathers the pages in exhausted silence. Her eyes skim the words as she collects them, but rather than read them all now she simply folds them together in her pocket.

Veth heads to the river. The steady flow of the water washes over her mind, and there she sits and begins to read. As far as she can tell, the letters contain no love confession. Just a mystery that leaves her befuddled, reeling. A dream? A fugitive? Her heart pounds in her throat as she pours over the words, spread over her lap and arranged in what she thinks is, maybe, the right order. So many questions race through her mind, but one is the most pressing.

What does she say?

Later in the evening she writes by the light of a rush-candle, safe from the prying eyes of her family.

> _Dear Bren,_  
  
_I hope you're alive, wherever you are. I have so many questions to ask you. Can you tell me more about your dream? How long ago did you start writing me? _  
  
_Is it safe for us to communicate this way, or do we need to invent some kind of code to use? I've done that once or twice, but I've never actually gotten to use one with anybody before._  
  
_This mystery sounds very exciting and I would love to help you solve it, but I should be honest. I hope you won't be disappointed with me. I'm not a powerful wizard, or a powerful anything really. I can't protect you from the dangerous people you're running from._  
  
_But I can tell you about myself, if you'd like. I'd like to know more about you. Maybe then we could figure out what it is that connects us. If your dream was right about the Academy, it must be right about us as well. There must be some reason that this is important. _  
  
_Or we could just be pen pals, if you want. I hear that's a nice thing for a person to have. _  
  
_Sincerely,_  
_Veth_

It occurs to her, as she ties the letter closed with twine, that this could be a joke. A prank-- her brothers, maybe? But the handwriting is too fine and the wording too elaborate to come from either of them, or anyone else she knows. So she hopes. She sends the letter to Blumenthal that next morning, and keeps hoping.  
  
Months of monotonous housework and schoolwork go by, and her hope dwindles. The letters are rarely touched upon again by her brothers, who find other things to mock her about when the subject of her "secret admirer" only makes her turn dour and silent. _Too bad_, they say. _Kicked the bucket, huh?_ Or worse. _Maybe he just doesn't like you anymore. _

Eventually they drop the topic completely.

  
It is nearly two years later, on an errand in town, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns and comes face-to-hip with the parcel carrier, a half-elven man who bends down and smiles at her. He asks her name, and when she gives it he hands her a single piece of folded paper with the same letters scrawled across.

> _Veth_  
_Felderwin_

She takes it gladly and dashes for the riverbank, tasks gone from her mind entirely. Any excuse to save her time away from her chores comes as a blessing, and this one especially.  
  
This letter is not like the others, she realizes. There is no wax seal, no elegant inking. Its letters are scratched in charcoal, and the paper itself is smudged with dirty prints much larger than her own fingers. For a moment she wonders if it was trampled in the mail, but even the edge looks ripped in a ragged haste.

> _Veth,_  
  
_You are alive. This is good news, provided that your words are true. If they are not, I suspect I will find out soon after sending this response and exposing myself._  
  
_Your existence, if I can be led to believe it as truth, comes as a relief to me in ways that you cannot possibly know. That alone is far greater than any disappointment could be to me now. My previous wishes for our relation, and as to whom you might be, were little more than a child's guesses. It does not surprise me now that they would be entirely incorrect._  
  
_It is not safe at all to continue this line of communication. Any code that we establish, I suspect, will be broken just as quickly._  
  
_But if you remain alive long enough to respond to this message, that says something as to our situation. And as much as I would like to abandon such a large risk, for both your safety and mine, I think that you are right. We are connected in some fashion._  
  
_To answer one of your questions: I first wrote you at the age of twelve. I am over twice that now-- twenty-six, to be exact._  
  
_Bren Aldric Ermendrud_

Veth reads the letter once, then over again. A human, or a half elf? Ermendrud could be a Sylvan name, she thinks, but then again she has never known much Sylvan. Bren is certainly not. Either way, the age he gives is far too young to be a full blooded elf. It's still older than her. And explains quite a few things, if she's doing her math correctly.  
  
She thanks the gods for the copper at the bottom of her bag and sends her response before her brothers can even get out of class.

> _Dear Bren,_  
  
_I got your letter! You probably realize that since you're reading this. I don't know what I should be expecting, but nothing has tried to murder me in the past few years as far as I can tell. If that changes, well. You'll either find out, or I guess you won't. That's how this goes, isn't it?_  
  
_If you're twenty-six, that means we must be eight whole years apart. When you first wrote me I would have been four years old. I only found out about your letters two years ago. They must have been sitting somewhere in our house until then, but I have no clue where my brothers found them. They get into all sorts of things, so really we're both just lucky they hadn't destroyed them by the time I got there._  
  
_Do you have any new clues in your investigation? Or about your dream? So many things must have happened in the time between our letters. Thank goodness you're still alive._  
  
_I was wondering... Do I have to have a dream about you for it to count? Because, I haven't, not yet. But I might now. Does it count if I already know who you are?_  
  
_Alive and well,_  
_Veth_

The next letter comes less than a month later. She stows away at her favorite spot to read it, delighted.

> _Dear Veth,_  
  
_No, I do not think it matters. I have not had another dream like that one in a decade, but if you experience something that seems similar you may by all means tell me. Otherwise I do not think you should be concerned._  
  
_You are eighteen? I had considered that you might be old enough to have passed already, but not that you were born far after me._  
  
_This complicates matters. You are aware that I cannot protect you, yes? I have put your name on paper too many times already to guarantee that it has not fallen into the hands of those who would do you great harm. Apologies will not change that fact, as much as I might wish it._  
  
_That said, I am truly sorry._  
  
_Bren_

Another copper, another reply sent. She hopes his fears are unfounded, and waits.

> _Dear Bren,_  
  
_Don't be ridiculous. If someone was going to come to murder me because of your letters, wouldn't they have done it already? An eight year old is much easier to kill than an eighteen year old. I would know, I've been in fights before. _ _Besides, how would someone so far away protect me in the first place? If anything maybe I can help you by cracking this case._
> 
> _I don't think you being old makes any difference. If you're self-conscious about it, you shouldn't be. I_ _ would be happy to be your age. Maybe then I would be able to leave this stupid town. I would rather live in the woods alone than forever with the same forty people I've known my entire life._  
  
_You shouldn't apologize for being the most interesting thing to ever happen to me. _
> 
> _Sincerely,_  
_Veth_

There is no response from Bren, not within the month. Or the next.

After spring has passed she receives a letter from an unfamiliar name, addressed only to _Veth, Felderwin_. She opens it without hesitation.

> _Dear Veth,_
> 
> _I must ask you to forgive me for not sending word in such a long time. I would hope that you do not forget an old friend too easily. Much has changed with me, as you are likely to suspect, but I think that we will both be better off for it. _
> 
> _Living in the woods alone is not all it is cracked up to be. I have recently decided to give it up myself, and as such you may write back to me by way of Zadash at the Leaky Tap. If this arrangement works well for the both of us, I see no reason to deny your assistance in achieving my goals. I will tell you as much as I can as soon as you wish. _
> 
> _Your penpal,_
> 
> _Caleb Widogast_


End file.
